Season 4—Episode 01 (Clearance Clarence)
Six days remaining in prep week until the first guests arrive at FSFO (Flathers and Scales Fishy Outfitters). With nine camp boats the chore of rigging was explicitly Rusty Flathers’. Let’s get his day started!
Fisheries Biology. This was his university major at East Jesus U, (location East Jesus, Indiana) studying under now current business partner Professor Cosmoid Scale. Each was attempting to flip their knowledge of subsurface aquatic species (things that swim underwater) into a successful world-class NW Ontario fishing camp. Basically, men—doing men things—or so they thought.
Meanwhile, Ms. Sally Squatsnfishes, Rusty’s girlfriend and let’s be honest “I’m going to save you from making most of the mistakes in your life” better half, sat on the main deck of the grand lodge with their shared British Labrador puppy Link snuggled in her lap—waiting for her man to make his first of potentially many miscues.
Did she love Rusty for his ambitions? YES. Did she think it would be possible for him and Cos to pull off the opening of this fishing camp without her efforts? NO. And if it weren’t for the bullet hole in her shoulder, she would already be down by the boat house showing Rusty how to properly mount a trolling motor and gear it for action.
Remember how we got to Season 4? Sally is a kick-ass world-renowned outdoor fashion model.… Also, she’s a smoke show, triple top secret international espionage agent (one of the original Three-Eagles)…. And finally, she is a stacked for success, woman of the out-of-doors world!
“Now, let’s see how our man does, mounting these new trolling motors,” Sally whispers into Link’s ear while seated comfortably, watching from a distance, and recovering from her recent near drowning with the bonus gunshot wound to the shoulder.
Rusty, at the boat house: “It looks like I need to start at the bow with this new Minn Kota electric trolling motor—wire it to a 24 volt loop for power—install an onboard charger—pair the two trolling batteries with 24 volts of power—sync the handheld remote with the power head. Seems simple enough. Then I turn the switch on and go. Yes? Yes, a solid plan.”
An hour and some change later…. “Son of a bee sting!” he shouted across the island…. A direct result of unsuccessfully wiring 24 volts to an incomplete circuit providing only 12 volts of power, thus igniting the contact posts on the batteries making them appear to be sparklers lit during a Fourth of July celebration.
If it were not for the fact that gas fumes inside the great Norway (end of Season3) had previously claimed much of the brown curly locks on his now bandana covered head, there may have been more hair follicle collateral damage. As it turned out with this incident, only his eyebrows were now temporarily singed.
From her safe distance…. Sally kept her composure, telling herself, “Ahhhhhh, yeahhhhhh, I’m just going to sit this one out. But dang, he’s got a sweet set of lungs on him. Those ripples he formed across the surface of the harbor, reverberating toward the main lake, that’s also impressive!”
“Maybe I should take a closer look at the installation manual?” was Rusty’s next thought after splashing lake water on his smoldering eyebrows. “Hmmm…. Wiring a 24 volt trolling motor to a 12 volt system may cause it to overheat and suffer damage.” Thus, we have our explanation for the smoke coming from the head of the trolling motor.
“Hey Cos, do we have a repair pile?” was Rusty’s inquiry upon entering the boat house with the trolling motor in hand. “We may be one motor short, at the beginning of our season.”
“I’m reminding myself that a portion of your degree was in Aquatic Ecosystems, and not Electrical Engineering. Here, let me have a look at it.”
“Thanks Cos, sorry for the mishap.”
“Hey, we’re both novel at this, no worries. Besides, it’s a simple fix,” he said while replacing the 20 amp fuse and putting the cover back on the head of the motor. “Should be good as new, seeing how it’s actually an original unit.”
Meanwhile, back on the deck of the lodge Sally continued basking in the morning sunshine, watching its powerful luster glisten off the spruce and poplar that were positioned closest to the water’s edge. And oh, what a sight… Because now, perched high in the top of the tallest bare limbed Norway, there were the two bald eagles she had witnessed prior and one new golden eagle who had joined the duo in a ghost-like manner. Unannounced—showing no ill will—simply joining the ranks to complete the connection of her Three Eagles.
This was followed, within minutes, by a small blue and silver tin skiff bombing around the corner of the island and idling down into the bay near their docks. A new visitor driving a very well-used boat.
From a distance she could identify: male, older, weathered and outdoorsy. And by the looks of the Yamaha outboard motor (Duct tape holding the cowling together) strapped to the back of the transom, a very trusting individual who put great faith in minor repair and maintenance.
“Ma’am…. Name’s Clarence Bishop,” said the man reaching out with a bow line to strap around a dock cleat. Seems you know my niece, Tawny.”
“Ah, yes. I’m Sally Squatsnfishes.”
“I know who you are, I also know what you did to her.”
“What I did to her?” Sally responded with a reeling mind. (I pray she hasn’t shared intel about The Kraken with this man.)
“You know—the bass fishing tournament—the one you botched for the both of you.”
“Yes, correct, that was me.” (Does anyone in Canada NOT forget about something that happened in a fishing contest a decade ago?!?!)
“Anyway, that’s how I know you. But that’s not why I’m here.”
“Then why are you here Mr. Bishop? Is there some way I can be of assistance?”
“Doubtful,” he responded. Thus, erasing any doubt that he was NOT a blood connected relative to Tawny. You had to be of Bishop lineage with such a short and confident retort.
“OK, I’m not following,” continued Sally. “I can’t help you with anything, but you’re here because….”
“I’m here because my niece gave her word to sign on for a season, to help some Rusty Feathers fella start this fishing camp. And now she’s run off to the Yukon, claiming to be urgently called away by friends of our family. At least that’s what it said in the letter she left nailed to my cabin door.”
“Um…. First, it’s Flathers—not Feathers. And are you saying you’re here to take her place?” (Whew…. She didn’t mention The Kraken…. Good.)
“I’m saying, when a Bishop signs on for something, we honor it. And like I said, she wrote in this letter that I needed to get myself out here ASAP to see that it happens. Can you follow what I’m saying, or do you need to see the letter?”
“No…. No…. I get it. You’re here to help,” she finished. Also thinking (Do we really need this dude’s help? And if we do, then why in the heck is Tawny being so helpful without being asked?)
“You know Ms. Squatsnfishes, I’m getting a vision right now that you are questioning my integrity. Do you not see those three eagles perched in the tree?”
“Um…. Yeah…. We would be honored to have your help Mr. Bishop.”
“You can call me Clarence. Now, where do I find this Feathers fella?”
–To Be Continued—
Rusty Flathers 